First
by Jinxgirl
Summary: Santana's first time with Puck had a driving force. Mature due to underage sex, although it is not detailed.


First

"Oh, she's definitely done it," Santana said decisively, rolling her eyes and snorting aloud as she jabbed her finger at the picture of the smiling face before her. "Come on, the way she wears that caked on eyeliner and how her vag is always eating out her shorts? She's probably done every dude in Lima that can fit between her legs."

"She is pretty flexible," Brittany nodded seriously, tilting her head to the side as she too regarded the picture Santana was indicating. "She drops things and bends over a lot, and she can definitely touch her toes."

"This one too, very free with the blatant tongue swallowing and spit-swapping, you'd think she's descended directly from the lizard clan," Santana rolled her eyes as she pointed at the next picture over, making a disgusted face. "So not sexy. I'm all for the tongue action but does she have to make it like an out of control garden hose, and I ain't talking in the pants?"

"I once put a garden hose up me," Brittany responded, nodding. "Or I tried to, but the water was very cold and I had to go warm up."

Santana's eyebrows rose to her forehead as she turned her head to stare at her best friend. With anyone else, she would have immediately broke out into the most gleefully, viciously plotted insults she could come up with after that kind of statement, whether or not she believed them to be telling the truth. But Brittany alone was usually saved from her acidic words, and she just laughed, nudging her shoulder into Brittany's playfully, then scooting closer to her on Brittany's bed. Still lying on her stomach, side by side, she leaned her head into the other girl's arm as she flipped the yearbook page.

They had been going through last year's eighth grade yearbook out of boredom, this Sunday afternoon, picking out those of their classmates they believed had started having sex some time in the ninth grade so far. For Santana, this was an opportunity not only to get in some prime insult practice, but also to gleam what Brittany knew. The girl had a way of dropping bombshells unsuspectingly, and she definitely wanted to know whatever Brittany might be holding onto, refraining so far from sharing with her, to use for further ammunition as needed.

"Now THIS one, virgin for sure, and probably for the remainder of her life. Hopefully, because God helps the man who even contemplates sticking it to her," Santana snickered as she thumped her fingers against the page with Rachel Berry's picture. Brittany laughed along with her, both of them sneering at the girl's widely grinning face and beaming eyes, the picture of overearnest feigned glee. "And with those lips, god, they'd suck you in like a friggin' Hoover."

"She does have very nice breasts, though. And a decent butt," Brittany remarked, and this time Santana's stare was more prolonged and carrying a degree of genuine horror.

She blinked, then looked down at her own chest, mentally comparing the size of her rather small breasts to those of Rachel Berry, or what she remembered of them, before she realized that she was thinking of the breasts of RACHEL, of all people, and she hurriedly shut off that direction of thoughts with a shudder. Not even attempting to counter Brittany's statement- the less attention spent focusing on Rachel's breasts, the better- she attempted to change the subject, fast.

"You think Q is all talk, or what? About the no sex 'til marriage thing?"

"Well, of course she's all talk," Brittany nodded, one hand reaching to twirl her blonde ponytail slowly around her index finger, even as the other absently reaches out to take a strand of Santana's hair, twirling it in exactly counter direction. Santana lets her, barely noticing this touch as she focuses, surprised yet again, at her words, but when Brittany further explains, it does make a little more sense to her. "She talks about not having sex before marriage all the time. All she does is talk without actually having the fun of doing it, but if she would do it then she would probably stop talking because it's better in silence. Except for moans and animal noises. Those are fun."

This is a topic they haven't approached with each other in detail before, or at least, Santana hasn't outright asked her, not since seventh grade, when few people they knew were quite precocious enough to make it a needed question. But they were fourteen now, in the ninth grade, and both of them had had their share of brief dating and "hook up" experiences for Santana to wonder, and then outright suspect. But if Brittany was no longer a virgin, when he herself had done nothing heavier than make out and let guys touch her boobs…well, she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

"So…you know about it, then? What's fun with it?" she asked somewhat hesitantly, even as she tried to disguise the question with a casual tone that hid, she hoped, how much she genuinely wanted to know. "So you've done it then? It?"

"Done what?" Brittany asked, blinking. Only Brittany would genuinely not know the implication of that question, within the context of their conversation. Santana caught herself from rolling her eyes again, instead pulling back from her arm, nudging her again, and meeting her gaze as she clarified.

"You know…had sex. Have you, yet?"

"Oh, sure," Brittany shrugged, her continued casual, almost flat tone indicating just how little of a deal this was to her. "After my alien abduction last year, I guess I just lost all inhibitions. After all, if the aliens think my body is impressive enough that they would pick me of all people to study and represent our whole population, then obviously my body is awesome and should be shared with the world."

She shrugged again, leaving Santana again blinking at this point of view- so typically Brittany, so typically evoking more questions than answering. As usual, with Brittany, she let it go, but she had one burning question that she couldn't dismiss.

"So…how many people have you done it with then?"

"Oh, I'm not sure…whoever wants to," Brittany said casually, tugging lightly at Santana's hair. She started to braid it with all her focus on the hair in her hands, her touch gentle and sure. "Sometimes I offer. You have to be generous, when you have a gift like I do. Even the losers, the people like Jacob Ben Israel or Rachel Berry, if they really wanted to, then if I wanted to do what my purpose is and share my awesome body-"

"RACHEL?! You mean you've had sex with GIRLS?! You would have sex with a GIRL?!" Santana nearly choked, pulling away from Brittany's hand so fast that she made the girl pull her hair in the process. She barely noticed or felt the resulting pain, her eyes bulging, mouth open as she gawked at her. There was no way she had heard her correctly- no way-

Her heart was beating very fast, and for a reason she refused to analyze, her face was flushed as Brittany replied calmly, reaching back for her hair again. "I only did with one girl, because only one girl asked so far. But sure, I would again. That's what my body is for. Haven't you been listening, Sanny?"

Still attempting to process this, feeling the heat in her face spread down her arms and neck and chest as well with her continued embarrassment, Santana cleared her throat, her eyes shifting away. There were now quite an array of mental images persistently drifting in her head, all starring a very naked Brittany with various other very naked and very female classmates…and why the hell was there a low stirring in her gut, a definite feeling of arousal building down lower still?

There were a thousand, no a million questions going through her head then, and she couldn't begin to know which to ask first. When did this happen? Why didn't Brittany tell her? What exactly had she done, and what lesbian girl had been bold enough to ask her? Or had Brittany offered? Did she like this girl better? Who was this girl anyway, did Brittany like her THAT much better than Santana?

A hot flaring of jealous shot through her then, but it was none of these questions, but rather the worst and most embarrassing one that came out instead- the one that Santana had not wanted to acknowledge even to herself. The one that she spoke in a near whisper, her words carrying a vulnerable edge that Santana hated intensely.

"So….what did it feel like?"

"What, eating her out?" Brittany asked in the same nonchalant tone, even as Santana's face continued to burn and she couldn't quite meet her eyes. When she managed to incline her head in a nod, Brittany smiled, beginning to braid the strands of Santana's hair she was still holding in her hand.

"It was nice…your hair is so soft and pretty, Sanny," she interrupted herself to say, stroking the girl's half completed braid before resuming the previous response. "She liked it, it was fun." A few more moments passed, with no change in either her expression or her tone as she continued to stroke Santana's now finished braid, rubbing it in between her fingers before undoing it entirely, combing her fingers through the waves to spread the strands back out again. "Do you want me to show you?"

Santana had learned over the past three years that one could only expect the unexpected from Brittany Pierce. But this was a day where perhaps her defenses were lower than usual, maybe because the strange and uncomfortable topic at hand. Whatever the case, she felt herself almost choke all over again at her best friend's tossed off offer, and almost reflexively she started to shake her head, meaning to run off immediately all the standard refusals.

Of course she didn't want Brittany to "show her." That wasn't something best friends did, that was disturbing and weird and at the very least you should be very drunk or making a lot of money or getting a lot of attention from guys for it. They didn't have a good reason like that for it. And most of all, she wasn't…like that. Lesbian. Gay. Not Santana Lopez.

No, there was no way she should let or accept Brittany showing her anything, especially THAT. No, no, no.

But the words didn't quite make it out her mouth, and before she could try to force them, Brittany was talking again, trying to get a good look at Santana's eyes.

"I just thought that since you're my very best friend, and the most awesome person I know, you should definitely get my amazing body too. It doesn't seem fair to hold back. Plus you're really hot, and I'm really hot, so the two of us together? Twice the hotness."

There was a flaw somewhere in that logic. There was definitely a flaw, a big, important thing that should be getting in the way of her saying yes. But damn if the longer Santana actually looked at Brittany, and the more she thought about the girl touching her, easing down her jeans and panties, easing in between her legs…well, the harder a time she was having trying to remember exactly what that big flaw in there was.

Maybe it was normal to look at your best friend when you were both changing for Cheerios and feel a strange heat settling low in your gut. Maybe everyone would sometimes space out in class, thinking about walking their fingers up their best friend's back, all the way up her spine and neck until she shivered and giggled, ticklish. Maybe everyone felt warm and giddy all over when they hugged her tightly, when they could feel her heartbeat against their own, maybe everyone felt safest and warm with their best friend's arms around them or their head snuggled into her shoulder. Maybe everyone woke up during sleepovers wondering what would happen if they leaned in to kiss her lips, maybe everyone sometimes had daydreams about long showers, just the two of them, helping each other soap up…

And maybe everyone would do these kind of things with their best friends…showing each other things. Teaching each other things. It was just being a friend…just being helpful, and…educational. Maybe.

Santana wasn't sure how much of what she was trying to tell herself she actually believed, and how much she simply hoped and prayed to be true. But nevertheless, she slowly inclined her head in a nod, feeling her breathing grow cold in her throat as she swallowed with difficulty.

"Okay…you…you can show me."

She smiled automatically as Brittany's face lit up, and the girl half draped herself over Santana's back, hugging her enthusiastically.

"Yay! This will be fun, Sanny, you'll see."

She rolled off Santana again, then sat up, pulling Santana up with her before rearranging her back on her back against the pillows. Almost immediately straddling her from this new position, Brittany stroked Santana's cheek briefly, then kissed the tip of her nose, still smiling down at her.

"Just relax. I'll show you everything."

Brittany lay over her carefully, her upper torso and chest more so than her legs, which were carefully spread to squeeze Santana's between them, taking the weight off her. One hand still cupping Santana's face, she leaned in to kiss her, gently at first, almost a brush of lips more than anything, and then with more insistence, her warm, soft lips parting Santana's with hers, her tongue flicking in to stroke against Santana's.

This was not the first time they had kissed. They had kissed on a dare, at a silly sleepover, before, and sometimes on their own, if they had snuck a wine cooler or two, or were just feeling particularly…silly, Santana had called it in her head before, but it never felt silly to kiss and be kissed by Brittany. It felt like all her nerve endings were being set on fire, like every part of her was awake, alive, and wanting more and more of her touch.

She let Brittany continue to kiss her way down her throat and chest, then to remove her shirt and bra, her hands and occasionally her tongue ghosting over her bare skin. She let Brittany's exploration continue down her abdomen and lower down her torso, teasing and enticing so when the blonde finally began to remove her pants, Santana was panting, almost gasping for breath with her eagerness to go on. And when she felt the girl in between her legs, Santana tensed up, almost screaming aloud not with fear or pain or protest, but a spiking of intense pleasure that none of her previous efforts at self-pleasuring had ever measured up to.

When Brittany had finished, one thing could be said for certain. She had enjoyed every bit as much as Brittany promised.

As Brittany lay over her, stroking her sides lazily, occasionally kissing Santana's neck or jaw, waiting for Santana's breathing to resume a normal pace, Brittany smiled at her, giving her another small kiss to her throat.

"See, told you that you'd like that. Don't you see why I want to share?"

Santana saw, all right. But it was the fact that Brittany was so free with her sharing that began to bother her, just before she pushed back from her and started to redress. Because if Brittany did this to everyone…well, that meant it wasn't special, that it didn't mean much to her. Obviously, Brittany didn't think about it as a gay thing. So then it was okay, it was normal, it was nothing to get freaked out over.

And yet just thinking about Brittany doing this with another girl made Santana want to go out and drag that girl into her presence, just so she could show her exactly how much girls from Lima Heights disliked sharing. And if she hated the thought of Brittany doing this with someone else so much, if she wanted to keep it just for her, that meant she wanted to do it again…many times, probably. And if that was the case, and she wanted it to be just her and Brittany, always, then…didn't that make her seem sort of gay?

The thought was disturbing enough that Santana pulled back from Brittany sharply, snapping a comment towards her that caused Brittany to frown, looking at her with hurt confusion that Santana tried not to see. And as Santana redressed hurriedly, almost running out the door, she already had out her cell phone in hand, scrolling through her contacts to find the one she wanted. Earlier Puck had texted her a greeting- "Sup Lopez-" that she had, disinterested, failed to return, but she now had an answering reply.

"Hey," she texted back, not giving herself permission to overthink the words she was sending out and their implications. "Want to do it?"

This was Noah Puckerman she was asking, and there could only be one response from him, one that came less than ten seconds later.

"Oh hell yeah. Name the place 'cause no time like present."

Less than fifteen minutes later Santana was in a cheap motel room, facing Puck with as much bravado as she could muster as she shrugged out of her clothes, then looked his unclad form up and down with a lack of enthusiasm that she didn't have to conceal and he didn't notice, due to his haste to come forward to her and mesh his mouth and body against hers. And although she put herself into the moment as much as she could, telling herself more than actually feeling that she was enjoying, she nevertheless found herself comparing throughout it all to a more recent and instinctive encounter.

Puck's hands were bigger and rougher, his tongue thicker, sloppier, and wetter. Puck's lips and skin were not as soft, Puck smelled musky and faintly of sweat and tobacco rather than shampoo and lotion. Puck was not careful how to position his legs, and his body against hers was heavy and hard and made her thigh sore after a few minutes. And when Puck was inside her, the brief pleasure it brought was considerably overbalanced by more lengthy moderate pain.

After what she had experienced less than an hour ago with Brittany, which was supposed to have been a teaching and preparation, just messing around with a friend, Santana had expected that this, the real deal, would be fireworks, so thrilling she could hardly stand herself or remain contained within her skin. But as Puck pulled back, panting, smiling proudly as she looked down at her, expectant, all she felt was a hollow disappointment, tinged heavily with a fear she would not name.

"Fun, huh?" he said as he gently wiped at the trace of blood on her thigh, patting it lightly. "Didn't tell me I was your first, Lopez. Sweet. Didn't hurt too bad, did it? It's better the second time, not gonna hurt at all anymore. Wanna wait a few seconds and go again, so you can see?"

But Santana shook her head, her effort at a smile sticking strangely on her lips as she pushed Puck's hands back, then sat up, reaching for her bra.

"Maybe later. Gotta go, you got my number or whatever, right?"

She didn't wait for his response as she headed out the door and down the road, regardless of the fact that Puck had driven his cousin's car illegally to pick her up from Brittany's. It was close to a four mile walk back to the blonde's house, but Santana barely noticed the distance or time, so heavily was she struggling with the thoughts and feelings she couldn't, shouldn't, wouldn't let herself have.

When Brittany answered her knock, over an hour later, Santana barely waited for her to guide her back to her bedroom before she blurted out the only acceptable thought she had let herself have for the past hour.

"Puck and I did it."

She could only be thankful that Brittany was not the questioning type as the girl simply nodded, giving her a smile.

"Cool. Was it fun? Was his penis sharing as awesome as his abs and his neck veins?"

Santana wasn't even going to ask about the neck vein part. She just shrugged, taking in a deep breath, and struggled against the slow feeling of falling sinking deep into her stomach before she reached out for Brittany's hand, squeezing lightly as a decision was made.

"It was okay, but…you know how you showed me the…eating me part? Britt? Can you show me…you know, the other way around?"

And as Brittany smiled, nodding that of course she would, of course she could, and swung Santana's hand, leading her to her bed and lying down, Santana closed her eyes, then joined her, letting herself take the plunge.

It meant nothing. This was educational, this was friends helping friends. This was for her own sexual…her own HETEROSEXUAL development. Nothing more, nothing less.

She was sure of it, at least, in the moments before and immediately after the actual act itself…because every time her skin made contact with Brittany, all efforts at logic and control went straight out the window, and every first seemed exactly that- a first of many, rather than an isolation, an exception to the rule. And whatever she told herself outside of those moments, Santana knew before she started it wouldn't be the last.


End file.
